


It Would've Been Enough

by Engie_Ivy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt Remus Lupin, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Post-First War with Voldemort, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius Black Dies, Young Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:00:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25822522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engie_Ivy/pseuds/Engie_Ivy
Summary: "We were like brothers." Though his dad is still smiling, the look in his eyes is somewhat sad. "He was the best friend I ever had."Harry looks over at uncle Moony, wondering how he feels about this, but it doesn’t seem like uncle Moony even heard what his dad said. He’s staring at the black-haired boy on the photo with a strange expression on his face, that makes Harry wonder how long ago it was that he has even seen a photo of Sirius.Harry Potter is a lucky boy, who doesn’t only have a mum and dad that love him very much, he also has uncle Moony, who’s like a second father to him. Harry is very proud of his mum, dad and uncle Moony, as they’re famous war heroes who fought against the evil wizard whose name Harry isn’t even allowed to say.They don’t tell Harry everything about their past, though. For instance, Harry knows there was also someone named Padfoot, who they all hardly seem to talk about. Harry is very curious about this mysterious Padfoot, but he never asks, as the topic always seems to make his dad and uncle Moony so very sad.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 149





	It Would've Been Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This may be a sad story.  
> It's different from my other stories, so I'm curious to know what you think!

Harry picks up a twig and waves it around. The pebbles he stacked up in a tower tremble a little. Harry takes an even larger twig and waves again. The small pebble on top drops down on the grass. Satisfied, Harry sits back on his heels. Just wait until he has an actual wand! Unfortunately, that waiting will take quite a while, as Harry is only five years old, and still needs to sleep many nights before his eleventh birthday.

Done with playing, Harry scrambles to his feet and goes inside to find his uncle Moony. Wednesday is always his day with uncle Moony, when they play together or go on day trips together, uncle Moony makes Harry’s favourite food, and before bed, he lets Harry eat more chocolate than he’s actually allowed, but that’s their little secret.

Today, however, uncle Moony asked Harry to go and play outside on his own for a bit. Harry had been good, and listened to his uncle without complaint, as his mum asked him to be extra nice to uncle Moony today. At first, she said that he couldn’t go, and Harry had been very upset. It just wasn’t fair. It was Wednesday and Wednesday was uncle Moony day! Well, except when the full moon was too close, but Harry had checked and the full moon was still weeks away. Harry had been looking forward to it for days. Luckily, his mum eventually said that he could go, but he had to be extra nice to uncle Moony today, which Harry was a little miffed about, as he was always nice to uncle Moony!

As Harry clatters into the house, he sees uncle Moony standing at the other side of the room, staring out the window with a distant look in his eyes. He’s fiddling with the silver ring he always wears on his right hand. Harry knows the ring is special, as it was passed on to uncle Moony after his father died. It’s quite a pretty ring, Harry thinks, but not as pretty as the rings his mum and dad wear, but Harry learned that the golden ring on their left hand means they’re married, so uncle Moony can’t wear a ring like that anyway, as he’s not married. Harry is secretly glad uncle Moony is not married and doesn’t have any children, as uncle Moony is like a second father to him, and he’s not keen on sharing him with anyone.

As Harry comes closer, he notices that uncle Moony looks somewhat unhappy. Harry remembers his mum’s words, and decides that it’s his task to cheer his uncle up. As Harry heads towards him, filled with determination, he hears uncle Moony softly mumbling to himself.

“...can’t believe it’s been four years, Padfoot.”

“What’s a padfoot?” Harry asks.

Uncle Moony whirls his head around to look at him. “Harry! I didn’t notice you coming in. You’re not eavesdropping, are you?”

Harry steps closer to his uncle and grabs his hand. “What’s a padfoot?” He repeats, ignoring uncle Moony’s question.

Uncle Moony smiles softly while looking out of the window again. “Padfoot is... an old friend of mine, and uncle Wormy and your father, actually.”

Harry perks up at this. “Is he a war hero too?” If there is one thing Harry is proud of, it’s that his mum, dad and uncle Moony are famous war heroes.

“Yeah...” Uncle Moony says. “Yeah, he was.”

Harry frowns. “Not anymore?”

“Well, he... he didn’t make it.” Uncle Moony scrapes his throat. “Through the war, I mean.”

Harry is silent for a while. He always loved hearing his mum and dad tell stories about the war. It all sounded like one big adventure: going on secret missions to fight evil witches and wizards. Harry couldn’t wait till he was a strong and brave wizard himself, and could also fight in a war and defeat the bad guys. Now, as he sees the incredibly sad look on uncle Moony’s face, he realises for the first time that maybe a war isn’t just adventure and excitement. Maybe he doesn’t want to fight in a war after all, if it’s not just the bad guys that die, like they do in the books and stories.

“Uncle Moony, are you okay?”

Uncle Moony turns his head toward Harry. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry, Harry! I didn’t mean to make you worry. Today I might be a bit sad sometimes, because today is the day we lost him exactly four years ago. But by tomorrow I’ll be fine, I promise!”

“Today is his deathday?” Harry asks, and uncle Moony nods.

“Then we should celebrate!” Harry exclaims, and uncle Moony gives him a surprised look.

“I mean,” Harry continues. “I don’t know how exactly you should celebrate a deathday, but I imagine it’s much like a birthday! Oh, uncle Moony, we should eat cake! Can we go and have cake to celebrate Padfoot’s deathday?”

Uncle Moony looks stunned and blinks at Harry a few times, then he bursts out laughing. “You know what, Harry? I think Padfoot would have absolutely loved that!”

“Uncle Moony, what’re you doing?”

Uncle Moony turns his head to Harry from where he’s sitting on the patio in the backyard, watching the night sky. “You are supposed to be asleep.”

Harry shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Uncle Moony sighs. “Well, I guess that’s my own fault, with the cake and then all the chocolate...” He spreads his arms towards Harry. “Come here.”

Harry grins and crawls on uncle Moony’s lap. “What’re you doing?” He asks again.

“Just watching the stars,” uncle Moony replies.

Harry looks up at the sky as well. “So many!” He stares in amazement. “Where did they all come from?”

Uncle Moony smiles. “All those stars are actually always there, but we can’t always see them. It depends on how clear the sky is how many we can see, but stars are always the same, they even have their own names.”

“How can you tell them apart?” Harry asks, unable to grasp how one could possibly distinguish one fleck of light from the other.

“Mostly their location,” uncle Moony says. “Each star has its own, specific place on the night sky.”

“Which one is your favourite?” Harry asks.

Uncle Moony smiles. “Can you tell which one is the brightest?”

Harry peers up at the sky, looking very carefully. “That one!” He exclaims after a while.

“Very good!”

Harry beams. “Is that your favourite?

“It is.”

“What’s its name?” There is a beat of silence after Harry asked the question, and he feels uncle Moony’s arms tighten a bit around him.

“Sirius,” uncle Moony then replies.

“Sirius,” Harry repeats.

“Yeah,” uncle Moony says softly. “Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, who’s always looking down on us.”

Harry is sitting on the couch. Uncle Moony is sitting next to him watching him with a bemused smile. It’s almost Harry’s bedtime, but he knows he won’t fall asleep any time soon. Harry is finally eleven years old, and tomorrow will be the first of September, which means that Harry will finally be going off to Hogwarts. He’s nervous, yes, but it’s a good kind of nervous, excited. He has his robes, books, kettle, and most important: his wand. He can’t wait to finally learn magic for real.

His dad comes into the living room carrying a cardboard box. “I found it!”

“What’s that?” Harry shifts to the edge of the couch.

His dad sits down between Harry and uncle Moony. “Photos from our time at Hogwarts!”

Harry immediately feels excitement bubbling up in his stomach. His dad has always been reluctant to talk about his school days. Harry knows about their school days in broad terms, of course. He knows that his dad, uncle Moony and uncle Wormy have been friends since first year, that his mum only agreed to go out with his dad in seventh year, that they were all Gryffindors, that his dad was on the Quidditch team, but what he doesn’t know are the actual stories. And there must be stories, as he picked up enough conversations here and there to know that his father and his friends weren’t exactly model students.

“Well, your mum might not be on these so much,” his dad says, as he opens the box.

“Since she hated your guts for the first six years?” Harry asks teasingly.

“Oi! Don’t be mean to your old man!” His dad takes out quite a large pile of photos. “Wormtail and that camera of his.”

Harry presses himself against his dad’s side, so he had a good view.

His father takes a photo off the pile. “This must be our first photo together!”

Harry sees four boys, about his age wearing Gryffindor colours, standing in a dorm room. The first thing that strikes Harry is how much the boy in the centre to the left looks like him, even if he’s not wearing glasses yet at eleven years old. He has the exact same dark, unruly hair, thin face and crooked grin, although his nose looks slightly longer and he has hazel eyes. Harry of course knew that he looks a lot like his father, it has been said to him often enough, but his father is a thirty-one-year old man, and Harry an eleven-year old boy, so he never really saw it as clear as he does now, looking at his eleven-year old father standing in his dorm in his brand-new Gryffindor robes.

“Of course, you recognize this devastatingly handsome fella,” his dad says, pointing at the eleven-year old version of himself, confidently smiling at the camera. “And here we have your uncle Wormy,” his dad continues, pointing at the figure all the way to the left: a chubby boy with mousy brown hair. At this age, he’s not noticeably smaller than the other boys, so probably his friends got a growth spurt later on which he must have skipped. His dad then moves his finger all the way to the right. “And here’s uncle Moony,” he says, pointing at a boy with large, amber eyes, light brown hair and a nervous smile. It’s especially strange for Harry to see his uncle Moony so young. He knows that premature aging is one the most detrimental side-effects of lycanthropy, so the uncle Moony he knows has bags under his eyes, and premature lines and scars on his face. This boy, however, looks so young, with only a few scars here and there. Then his dad points at the last boy on the photo. A boy with black hair that just reaches his ears, striking grey eyes and a bright smile. “And this is-”

“Padfoot,” Harry says, remembering the name and realising that this has to be him.

“Yes.” His dad smiles at him. “Padfoot. Or Sirius Black, as we knew him then.”

Sirius Black. Harry repeats the name in his head.

“We were like brothers.” Though his dad is still smiling, the look in his eyes is somewhat sad. “He was the best friend I ever had.”

Harry looks over at uncle Moony, wondering how he feels about this, but it doesn’t seem like uncle Moony even heard what his dad said. He’s staring at the black-haired boy on the photo with a strange expression on his face, that makes Harry wonder how long ago it was that he has even seen a photo of Sirius.

Luckily, as they go through the photos, the emotion of constantly being confronted with Sirius Black’s grinning face seems to wear off, and it looks like his dad and uncle Moony start to enjoy recounting memories of their time at Hogwarts. Soon, they’re laughing, bantering and sharing stories together.

A photo of his dad in his full Quidditch uniform, with Sirius and uncle Moony standing next to him with what seems to be everything Gryffindor-related they could find. A Gryffindor hat, a Gryffindor scarf, a Gryffindor sweater. Uncle Moony has rolled up his trousers and is wearing Gryffindor socks, and Sirius is wearing huge red-and-gold Gryffindor glasses. Both of their faces are painted red, with golden stripes.

“Prongs, your first Quidditch match!”

“You two look ridiculous.”

“We were just showing our support. You, however, look a bit pale.”

“That’s just my complexion!”

“Sure...”

“Alright, alright. My very first match is the only one I’ve actually been nervous for. After that, James Potter, Quidditch hero, was born.”

“Just the ego boost you needed.”

“Merlin, I really was a prat back then, wasn’t I?”

“Well, at least you weren’t the only one.”

A photo of the four boys sitting at a high table in some sort of cafe. They’re definitely older now, uncle Wormy clearly shorter than the other boys. His dad’s hair looks even messier, if possible, and Sirius’s hair now reaches his shoulders. Uncle Moony and uncle Wormy are sipping a butterbeer, but his dad and Sirius are holding some hideous bright pink drink with some glittery foam on top. Instead of looking embarrassed about it, however, they hold their drinks up in a toast with amused smiles on their faces.

“I miss our trips to Hogsmeade!”

“Do you miss your Sparkling Fairy Foam drinks as well?”

“It tasted surprisingly good.”

“Madam Rosmerta’s revenge for trying to get her to give you Fire Whiskey by flirting with her, really bad flirting, may I add.”

“She wouldn’t serve us anything else for the rest of the school year! She eventually caved in sixth year, though. I guess when Padfoot got the motorcycle she deemed us old enough.”

“I always thought it was the leather jacket that did it...”

A photo of Sirius sitting in between his dad and uncle Moony, surrounded by empty bottles of Butterbeer, on what seems to be a roof top at night time. Sirius is pointing up at the sky, explaining something, his dad is glancing up at the sky, his arms folded behind his head, leaning back, relaxing, and uncle Moony is staring in amazement, though not at the sky, but at Sirius.

“Ah, here Sirius thought us the constellations.”

“The only slightly useful thing his parents ever thought him.”

“I learned so much about astronomy from him.”

“Really, Moony? Don’t you have to be looking at the actual sky for that?”

“Oh, shut up, Prongs.”

A photo of the four boys sitting outside in the grass underneath a large tree on a sunny day. It would be a totally normal, unremarkable photo, if it wasn’t for the fact that Sirius’s hair, which is now past shoulder length, is some strange colour of really bright neon blue.

“How did that happen again?”

“You don’t remember? Frank Longbottom hexed him. He already fancied Alice at that point, and he overheard her saying to a friend that she thought Padfoot’s hair was really pretty, and he got so jealous, he hexed Padfoot and turned his hair into that weird colour.”

“Ah, poor shy and quiet Frankie! I think Padfoot was actually proud of him for the hexing. But still, it was a bit of an overreaction. I mean, I thought Padfoot’s hair was very pretty, and I can tell you, I was only interested in Lily.”

“Everybody knew that, Prongs. Besides, you and Padfoot referred to each other as ‘platonic love of my life’ at that point, so no one was surprised about your relationship anymore.”

“Well, I guess it worked out well in the end. Frankie eventually did get with Alice.”

“But not thanks to this hex! Padfoot just went with it, and he pulled it off. Two weeks later half of the students at Hogwarts had shining blue hair.”

“Including Frank himself!”

A photo of his mum that, quite frankly, gives Harry the creeps a little. Her eyes are narrowed and she’s clenching her jaw, glaring at whoever is taking the photo (who Harry strongly suspects is his dad). Harry knows that if she ever looks at him like that, he’s in big trouble. She has even balled her hands into fists and looks like she’s ready to punch the person taking the photo.

“My beautiful Lilyflower! Exactly how I remember her from those days.”

“Like she’s going to kill you? Wait, actually, that sounds about right.”

The next photo has Harry doing a double take, and then another, but he still can’t really make out what’s going on. It must be somewhere in the castle at night time. There is a huge deer, with large antlers, which Harry recognises as his dad’s Animagus form. Except, two Fire-breathing Chickens are casually sitting on his antlers. Uncle Moony is sitting on the deer’s back, in his pyjamas, with his arms full of Flobberworms and a frantic look on his face. Sirius is walking next to the deer, covered in some slimy green substance, rolling forward what appears to be a giant pumpkin.

“I don’t even-”

“We made a pact to never talk about this night ever again.”

“Right, next.”

A photo of a huge, almost bear-like, black dog on the grounds of Hogwarts. For a moment, Harry is confused. Owls, cats, rats, toads, the occasions Magical Creature for educational purposes, yes, but a regular, although maybe exceptionally large, dog? Then he suddenly realises that this must be Sirius’s Animagus form! A group of girls is gathered around the dog, cooing over him and scratching his ears. Uncle Moony is standing a bit to the side, his arms crossed over his chest and a rather annoyed look on his face.

“You don’t look too happy, dear Moons.”

“He was just walking around school grounds in his Animagus form! His, may I remind you, _illegal_ Animagus form.”

“Sure, Moony, sure.”

“He was being reckless!”

“Oh my! Sirius Black? Reckless? You don’t say!”

“Oh, shut up, Prongs.”

A photo of his dad in impeccable dress robes, though his hair is as messy as ever. He’s wearing his glasses now, which really suit him, although that could also be because Harry has only ever known his dad with big round glasses perched on top of his nose. Next to him, uncle Moony is also looking very nicely dressed, although his dress robes are a little shabbier than his dad’s. Sirius, however, is dressed as casual as can be, wearing actual muggle clothes, tight fitting jeans, a t-shirt and even a leather jacket, his now very long hair tied together in a messy ponytail.

“We had a Yule ball!”

“In sixth year, yes.”

“Why do I remember so little about that?”

“Well, Padfoot refused to wear the dress robes his parents had packed him-”

“Those old-fashioned aristocratic ones that practically screamed ‘noble pureblood brat’?”

“Yes, those. So, he went dressed in the exact opposite, but McGonagall had to send him away for breaking dress code, so we left as well and spent the night on the roof smo- eh, star gazing.”

“That’s why I remember so little of that evening! Too much ‘star gazing’.”

A photo of... just his uncle Moony, actually. The boy on the photo, or maybe young man, as he could very well be seventeen here, is sitting curled up on a couch in what appears to be the Gryffindor common room. He has his feet tucked underneath him, and in one hand he’s holding a mug, and in his other a book, which he’s reading in the sunlight falling through the window behind him. His eyes and his hair almost look golden in this light and it gives him a sort of ethereal appearance. He looks calmer and more at peace than Harry has ever seen him, but although he’s almost fifteen years younger on this photo, the whole set is just so typically uncle Moony: curled up on a couch with a warm drink reading a book while absentmindedly chewing his bottom lip.

“I don’t recall this photo at all.”

“Well, no, you see... Actually... Padfoot had this photo stuck to his bedroom wall in our parents’ house.”

“He... he did?”

“Yes. I really didn’t want to throw it out. It was his favourite.”

“...Oh.”

His dad and uncle Moony tell Harry everything about their school years. Of course, there’s the broader story, some of which Harry knew, some of which he didn’t. How they formed a group called ‘The Marauders’ and made The Marauders’ Map, how they found out uncle Moony was a werewolf in their second year and managed to become Animagi in their fifth year to keep him company during the full moon, how Sirius ran away from his abusive home and parents obsessed with blood purity in his sixth year and moved in with Harry’s dad, grandpa and grandma, how his mum finally agreed to go on a date with his dad in seventh year and slowly became a vital part of the group.

But what Harry likes most are the details. The anecdotes and small stories, that make his dad’s eyes light up and have him gesturing wildly as he enthusiastic recounts everything he remembers, that make uncle Moony smile with such loving fondness that it makes him look five years younger.

The time they tried to prank McGonagall, but overestimated the amount of catnip they needed, and every cat in the castle (which were a lot) refused to leave her office for weeks. The time his dad and Sirius turned into their Animagi forms, his dad distracted a Slytherin student and Sirius ate all his homework, after which they watched the Slytherin try to explain to their professor that a giant deer had suddenly come up to him, and while he was trying chase it away, this huge black dog had eaten all his homework, for the third time that week. The time after they had discovered the secret passageway to Honeydukes and madam Pomfrey caught his dad, uncle Wormy and Sirius trying to smuggle three boxes of illegally obtained chocolate into the hospital wing after the full moon, but she decided to turn a blind eye, as it had been a really rough full moon. The time when his dad had managed to have the entire school grounds overgrowing with lilies and how all the girls were gushing to his mum about how romantic that was, while his mum did not know how to handle it and in a moment of panic set the lilies on fire, which almost caused Hagrid’s house to burn down, but when they were in detention together, his dad got his mum to smile at his jokes for the first time, so eventually it worked out.

But, despite the fact that he loved his days of mischief making and pranking, his dad also tells him how Hogwarts made him more mature and shaped him into the man he is today. His time at Hogwarts taught him about friendship, love, helping those in need and standing up for what you believe in, and helped him become a better man.

His dad hands Harry another photo, and he sees himself: a baby with plucks of, already messy, dark hair, sitting on Sirius’s lap. Sirius is holding him with one hand, and with the other he holds up a stuffed dog, which Harry recognises as one of the toys he grew up with. Sirius is grinning at him and Harry is smiling broadly, while trying to reach for the dog. Uncle Moony is sitting next to Sirius, leaning against his shoulder, looking at the scene in front of him with a soft, happy smile.

“I think this is the last one,” his dad says.

Uncle Moony nods. “It must be. This was taken a week before... A week before.”

Harry wants to ask, but at the same time, he’s afraid to ask. They’ve been enjoying themselves so much, it almost seems cruel to bring up all that pain now. But this might be the only chance he’ll ever have. So he asks.

“What happened?”

His dad runs a hand through his hair, becoming visibly anxious.

“You know how, during the war, there was a moment in which You Know Who decided to come after... well, you.”

Harry presses his lips together and nods. He knows that part of the story, though he still finds it hard to comprehend. The most powerful evil wizard of all times wanting to kill him so badly, while he was still a baby, for Merlin’s sake, just because of some vague prophecy.

“We had to go into hiding,” his dad continues. “Your mum and I, with you, of course. The best way to do it was with something called the Fidelius Charm. Ancient magic that allows you to lock a secret, in this case our hiding place, into someone’s soul. That person becomes your Secret Keeper, and only if that person voluntarily shares the secret, it can be revealed. I asked Padfoot to be our Secret Keeper. Besides your mum, he was the closest person to me, and I knew I could trust him blindly.”

His dad pauses to take a breath. “We just underestimated how bad You Know Who wanted to find you, and therefore wanted to find Padfoot, as it was much too obvious he was our Secret Keeper. You Know Who’s power was immense at that time, and his network was large. The Fidelius Charm gave us a chance, but for Padfoot, it was different. Soon, he was cornered by a group of five Death Eaters, ordered to take him to their master so he could try to unlock the secret. I know this mostly from stories of muggle eye-witnesses and later statements made by former Death Eaters, but it seems like Padfoot could have gotten away that time. He was an exceptionally talented wizard, and he single-handedly defeated four Death Eaters.”

The pride is evident in his dad’s voice. “But he must have realised it would only be a matter of time before You Know Who would get his hands on him. The Fidelius Charm is powerful and should be safe, but with Him you just couldn’t be sure. He had dived deeper into the Dark Arts than anyone had ever before, deeper than we can even imagine, so who knew what he was capable of? So, when there was only one Death Eater left, Padfoot started to purposely antagonize him, provoke him to make him loose his self-control, and it worked.”

His dad lets out a bitter laugh. “Padfoot of course had sixteen years of experience in provoking stuck-up purebloods. That last Death Eater was eventually pushed over the edge, ignored his master’s orders and attempted to kill Padfoot. And Padfoot let him. Knowing that the secret would then be safe for good.”

Harry stares at his dad with wide eyes. “He died to protect... me?”

“I’m sorry,” his dad says, running a hand through his hair again. “I should have told you sooner. It was just hard for me. Not only because I still miss him so terribly much, but also because... it was me. He did it for me, I put him in that position. I still haven’t quite come to terms with that.”

“But you didn’t know he would die!” Harry protests.

“I should have. We had already lost so many people at that point, but I always had this misconception that Sirius and I were somehow... invincible. Until we weren’t.” His dad shakes his head. “Still, I should have told you. You deserved to know about Padfoot, and Padfoot deserved to have his godson know about him.”

Godson? Harry’s eyes widen further.

His dad continues talking. “You deserved to know what an idiot he could be, how he could act like an insufferable prat, how incredibly brave he was, how loyal he was to his friends, what a great man he became, and how much he loved you.”

If completely honest with himself, Harry did feel slightly angry this was kept from him for so long, but seeing his dad, his Gryffindor, war hero, scared-of-nothing dad, look so distressed makes all his anger ebb away. “I get it, dad,” Harry says. “Someone died for our family. That's not an easy thing to say.”

Harry is silent for a moment. “Did he have a family of his own, a family he left behind?” He then asks. “I mean, I know his parents weren’t a part of his life, but like you had mum, and uncle Wormy had aunt Mary?”

“Well,” his father glances at uncle Moony. “He was actually Moony’s-”

“Fiancé,” uncle Moony says.

Harry, and surprisingly also his dad, whip their heads around to stare at uncle Moony. “What?” They ask incredulously.

Uncle Moony looks down at his lap, while gently touching the silver ring on his right hand, which Harry now strongly suspects is not a family heirloom at all.

“What... I didn’t... How... When...” his dad sputters.

“He proposed to me on the evening before he went into hiding,” uncle Moony says, a distant look in his eyes, like he’s picturing the whole scene in front of him. “We stayed in our little flat the whole day, just the two of us. We had eaten some take-out, those greasy pizzas from that place at the corner Siri liked so much, and we were laying on the couch together. We were talking about the war, about how strange it was that we were now part of something so much bigger than ourselves, that we had a higher cause, a real purpose, and that people were going to remember our names. Siri then said that if there hadn’t been a war, he would have moved away with me to live in a remote cottage somewhere on the country side. He said that if the only thing he would have ever been a part of would have been our own little family, the only cause he would have ever had would have been making me happy, the only purpose he would have ever had would have been loving me, and no one would have ever remembered his name, it would’ve been enough for him. He then got down on one knee, hair tied in a messy bun, wearing sweatpants and an old shirt, covered in grease stains from those pizzas,”

Uncle Moony smiles softly, like he can see him sitting there right now. “Pulled out a ring and asked me to marry him.” Uncle Moony lets out a disbelieving laugh. “I said yes. Of course I bloody said yes. I even asked him if we couldn’t just sneak out that evening and get married somewhere, before he had to go. But he said he wanted our wedding to be the first celebration in peacetime, with all our loved ones. He said there was no rush, we had enough time, he promised me he’d come back. And he never did.”

“I’m so sorry, Moony,” his dad says. “Why did you never tell us you got engaged?”

Uncle Moony shrugs, still looking at the ring, and Harry realises how much that ring must mean to him, for the love it reminds him of, and how much he must hate it at the same time, for the unfulfilled promise it reminds him of. “At first, I thought we could tell you together, after Siri came home. Invite you and Lily over for dinner, surprise you by showing the ring, popping open a bottle of champagne... And when it became clear Siri wasn’t going to come home, well, it didn’t matter anymore anyway.”

“I took so much from you,” his dad whispers.

Uncle Moony shakes his head. “It was his own decision. His own decision to become your Secret Keeper. His own decision to give his life. And I wanted to be angry with him so badly.” Uncle Moony’s breath hitches. “I wanted to be angry with him for breaking his promise, for not coming home, for not even considering what that would do to me, but how could I be angry with him when-” Uncle Moony pauses to calm himself a little by taking a deep breath. He looks over at Harry. “When I know I would have done the same?”

“Uncle Moony...” Harry says, but he has no idea what he can possibly say to his uncle right now.

“It’s fine,” Uncle Moony says, though is voice is trembling. “It’s fine. He died protecting his friends, as he would have wanted, You Know Who was defeated, you’re all safe, it’s fine. It’s all fine. I just-” Uncle Moony’s voice starts to break. “I just really wanted to marry him.”

Harry picks up the last photo they had been looking at. He looks at the man who’s looking at him with such a fond and happy grin, his handsome face full of laughter, his eyes sparkling, with still a mischievous, boyish glint in them. Harry suddenly knows for sure he would have liked him.

“Thank you, Padfoot,” Harry whispers. “I’m going to start Hogwarts tomorrow thanks to you. I know I can never repay you, but I promise that I’ll try my hardest to become a great wizard!”

“He would just want you to have as much fun as possible,” uncle Moony says. “Make friends and create memories.”

“And get in as much trouble as possible,” His dad adds.

Harry smiles at them. “I think I can do that!”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry. It's not a happy ending, though not extremely sad either?  
> I would love to know your opinions, so I would love a comment!  
> Thank you for reading.  
> (You can find me on Tumblr as Engie-Ivy)


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